Читать книгу The Highland Laird's Bride - Nicole Locke - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Jostled, and held too tightly, Lioslath woke. With long strides Bram carried her through the Hall.

He was too close. She noticed the shades of red in his hair, the blonde tips of his eyelashes. She could smell the scent of leather, of outdoors...of him. It was almost as jarring as him carrying her.

‘Put me down.’

‘Nae, you little fool. How long have you been like this? How long did you think you would last?’

Bram cradled her against him as if she was no more than a babe. She shouldn’t have felt him through the layers of clothing, but she did. She felt the hard planes of his chest, and the grace and strength of his legs. His arms had no more give than the rest of him, and yet he held her gently.

She couldn’t remember if she had ever been carried or held like this. He was Laird Colquhoun and his holding her should have felt uninvited and unwelcome. At the very least it should have felt foreign. Instead, he felt...warm.

Fighting the warmth, she turned her head and saw the light through the Hall’s doors. A spike of fear woke her up. ‘Put me down,’ she ordered again.

The keep would wake soon. She didn’t need her two brothers seeing her. At six and five, they would ask too many questions. Her sister, Fyfa, at eight, would think it romantic. Lioslath knew that would be worse.

Brows drawn, Bram didn’t look at her, but she felt the flexing of his fingers against her arm and leg. ‘Not until we reach your bedroom.’

She was too weak to fight him, but she wasn’t too weak to hold herself rigidly. She felt the tightening of his hold and saw his frown, though he ignored her tiny defiance. When he laid her on the bed, she sat up, and his frown deepened.

‘Stay there.’

She wouldn’t take his orders. ‘This is ridiculous.’

‘You fainted.’

Forget the room or her siblings, her fainting was the most embarrassing bit of all of this. Worse, because an enemy had seen it and carried her. ‘I didn’t faint—’

He quirked an eyebrow.

‘Or if I did, it’s over with. It’s daylight. The keep will wake soon.’ Her eyes darted around.

‘Your dog stayed in the kitchens. Shouldn’t he be protecting you?’

‘As if you were a threat?’ How did he know she wanted Dog and why wasn’t Dog protecting her? The edges of her vision wavered and she put a hand to her head. ‘You need to leave or you’ll be discovered.’

‘We’re in your room. I’ll take the tunnel.’

By now the platform by the gates would be manned. ‘Someone will see you.’

He tilted his head, studying her. ‘Worried for me?’

Looming over her, he was everything arrogant and domineering. His red hair waved loose to his shoulders, but it didn’t hide the broadness of his jaw or his eyes, which were grey, like the colour of the sky before a storm broke. His sun-browned skin highlighted the soft dusty colour of his lips. His jaw was broad and square. His nose looked as though it had been broken and straightened many times, but it didn’t disfigure his face. In fact, she found this part of him...interesting. It gave him a certain fierceness she wasn’t expecting of the weak-kneed Colquhouns.

Like this, Bram looked like the warrior he was reputed to be.

She felt a fluttering in her stomach and her skin flushed. But was it from hunger or fear? It couldn’t be fear. Her father had been a giant of a man and had ruled the keep with intimidation and punishments. When he loomed over her, never once had she felt this sort of helpless breathlessness before. It must be from hunger.

Bram shook his head. ‘Not worried for me. You’re worried for your tunnel. Why is there a tunnel and room beneath your bedroom?’

He didn’t need to know about the tunnel, or the empty storage room beneath. He didn’t need to know this wasn’t her bedroom. All he needed to know was—

The door burst open. Bram, ready to fight, leapt in front of the bed.

Two muddy boys were chased into the room by an older girl. Lioslath’s gasps of surprise and anger were drowned by the girl’s shrieking. Gleeful, the boys taunted the girl until they were all fully around the bed. Just as the boys swerved to run out again, they spied Bram.

‘The giant outside the gates!’ the littler boy cried, dashing out of the room.

Bram lunged for the door to trap the other two inside, then turned to face his captives.

Curiously, the children hadn’t run to Lioslath for protection. Instead, they stood on the other side of the bed, their hands locked together.

Unlike the boys, the girl’s appearance was immaculate. Her hair was freshly brushed and a rudimentary ornament held back tiny plaits around her face. Her dress was thin, overly mended and far too short for her, but it was clean. As was the girl herself, except for one long drip of mud from her left cheek that stretched down and along her gown.

The boy standing next to her looked as though he’d emerged from a mud puddle; the girl looked as though she’d never seen a mud puddle.

There were now witnesses to his being inside the keep. He didn’t know who they were, but he suspected.

Lioslath stood when he closed the door. She looked as though she’d never seen the children before, but there was no mistaking their similarities. The children had brown hair with golden highlights, but their eyes were Lioslath’s.

She waved to the children. ‘Leave now!’

‘I think it’s too late for that.’ Bram heard footsteps. This would not go well.

‘Are you smiling?’ she choked out.

Bram stepped aside before a man stormed into the room with the littler boy at his heels. When the man saw Bram, he brandished his axe.

‘Aindreas!’ Lioslath cried.

‘Get away from her!’ Aindreas bit out.

Lioslath’s embarrassment over fainting was now swamped by frustration and fury and a helplessness she’d never felt before that made it all worse. Too late she realised that when Bram stepped away from the door, he’d stepped towards her. It only reinforced the damage done.

She felt like kicking Bram, shouting at Aindreas and shoving the children out the door, but she could do none of it. She was trapped.

‘Are you harmed?’ Aindreas kept his eyes on Bram.

‘Nae harmed—merely plagued.’

‘What is he doing here, Lioslath?’ Aindreas asked. ‘How did he get here?’

Neither question could she answer and already she saw the children’s comprehension that Bram was inside the keep, though the gates were closed. ‘It’s not as it seems,’ she said.

‘Not as it seems!’ Aindreas almost roared. ‘He’s in your—’

‘The children!’ she interrupted.

Aindreas clenched his jaw as his eyes, warning of retribution, returned to Bram. ‘Did you harm any?’

‘Nae harm and I came alone,’ Bram said calmly, yet there was no mistaking the silent challenge in his words. Lioslath and Aindreas had observed Bram training his men. He was daunting from afar, now, up close, he was formidable.

‘Why are you here?’ Aindreas said.

‘That is between Lioslath and me,’ Bram said.

‘Not while I have breath in my body, Colquhoun. You are leaving. Now.’

‘Why would I do that?’ Bram said.

Aindreas raised the axe again, his stance widening. He was skilled in axe throwing, but Bram stood too near to Lioslath and her siblings were here. He couldn’t throw it and he couldn’t attack. They all knew it, but Aindreas looked as though he was beyond caring.

‘He will go now,’ she said. ‘He knows by staying the consequences will be dire.’

‘You’re unwell,’ Bram said.

Did he think her a fool to believe that he stayed because of that? ‘I have care now,’ she pointed out.

Something about Bram’s demeanour said he didn’t like that. ‘Nae good enough. We need to negotiate.’

‘You’ll negotiate,’ Aindreas said, ‘only at the end of my axe.’

Lioslath knew it was up to her to end this. The room was brightening with the rising sun. She could hear people waking and she needed no witnesses to her fainting embarrassment.

‘Aindreas, you need to leave and take the children.’ She turned. ‘And you three need to keep quiet.’

‘Nae!’ Aindreas waved his axe. ‘He’s trapped. We can use him to barter. We have an advantage.’

‘Do you truly?’ Bram said, amusement lacing his words.

Lioslath’s insides roiled. Did he find nothing serious?

No, he did. She’d been watching him all these weeks, and Bram was Laird Colquhoun and a warrior in every sense. The years, the authority and the training were ingrained in the way he held himself. Even without a weapon, he was too worthy a foe. And his all-too-knowing smile that belied a friendly easiness told her he wouldn’t leave here quietly.

Her siblings, for once, remained still, but they were not silent. Increasing her alarm, they held hands and whispered something between them.

‘Aindreas, go, please. Keep them quiet and nae harm will come to me. I’ll converse with Laird Colquhoun and we can end this.’

‘Alone? You expect me to leave a man in your room alone?’

‘I was alone with her before we were interrupted,’ Bram said.

Lioslath’s breath left her lungs. ‘Mere moments and unwanted! Aindreas, only we know he is here. If we delay much longer, this cannot be kept secret!’

Aindreas eased his axe hold. ‘To negotiate?’

She nodded. ‘I trust this to you.’

Aindreas lowered his axe and nodded. ‘I’ll take them to the courtyard outside the Hall’s door. Nae more.’

It was the most she could ask.

‘Wait,’ Bram said, turning to the children. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘This isn’t necessary,’ Lioslath interrupted.

‘I won’t go,’ Bram said. He meant it.

Her siblings visibly twitched, but Eoin and Fyfa faced this intimidating man with their chins stubbornly set. She’d seen them like this when facing her, but never with someone they should fear.

‘Did you... Did you hurt her?’ Fyfa asked, a fierceness to her eyes.

‘Nae,’ Bram said, ‘but it’ll hurt your sister if I stay.’

Aindreas made some sound, while Lioslath tried not to reveal her surprise at her siblings’ bravery.

‘How will it hurt her if you stay?’ Eoin asked.

Fyfa tugged on her brother’s arm. ‘I’ll tell you later. Now they want us to pretend he wasn’t here.’

‘How are we to do that?’ Eoin said. ‘He’s huge!’

‘Later,’ she hissed at her brother before turning her eyes to Bram again. This time there was a gleam to them. ‘What do we get in return?’

Her siblings had been chattering to themselves and this was what they planned? It was confusing. Their protectiveness was confusing. As was Bram’s increasing amusement.

‘Do you know what you want?’ he asked.

Eoin and Fyfa nodded, but Gillean, who remained by Aindreas’s side, looked lost.

Bram pointed to him. ‘When he knows, come to me to discuss your terms.’

‘Are you finished?’ Aindreas demanded.

Bram shrugged. ‘For now. When you return, bring food. She needs it.’

Aindreas’s lips thinned as he looked at Lioslath. She nodded. For now, she was safe. She’d deal with the Colquhoun’s arrogance after the children left.

Keeping his eyes on Bram, Aindreas ushered the children out of the room.

The door latch clicked with an ominous sound and Lioslath felt more alone with Bram now than she had before. At the very least she was more...aware of him. Which made little sense, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was suddenly, vibrantly here.

Had he always been this tall or broad of shoulder? He was a well-trained man and it showed in this morning’s light. Showed...a little too much to her. And she didn’t want to guess on why. Faintness or hunger. That was all this fluttering awareness had to be. She’d never felt it before and she hoped she wouldn’t faint again.

To prevent it, she sat, but she raised her chin when she saw his brow arch. He wanted to negotiate and she’d do it. ‘What do you want?’ she said.

‘What are the children’s names?’

This information was useless to him, to her, and she wanted to argue. By his demeanour, she also knew it was futile. ‘Fyfa, Eoin, he’s six, and Gillean’s the youngest at five.’

‘Fyfa’s age?’

‘Eight, she’s eight.’ She had just had her birthday, which was something her father celebrated in the years before his death. Lioslath hadn’t known what to do to mark the day, so she hadn’t done...anything.

‘Are there more?’

She shook her head. Her siblings were orphans like her. They had to learn the harshness of life, too. Except—

‘Why doesn’t Aindreas know of the tunnel?’

Of course he’d notice that. ‘A conversation about the tunnel is what you want?’

He shrugged. ‘I am curious.’

She knew better. ‘Your reputation precedes you, Colquhoun. You are asking questions to obtain leverage for your famous negotiation skills. What do you do? Find facts to use against your opponent? I think you’ve harmed us enough.’

Bram clasped his hands behind his back and rolled on his heels. It was a casual pose, but she sensed his displeasure underneath.

She liked it. ‘Nae talking of kissing me now like you did last night? It took me a while to know what you did. Another manipulation from Laird Colquhoun. You won’t find those weaknesses with me.’

A small smile. ‘I may find others.’

‘You won’t be here long enough.’

‘Ah, but you make me want to find others.’ He released his stance. ‘You are...not as I expected.’

A play on their words last night or something else? He probably expected her to have courtesy, manners and a calm demeanour befitting a lady of the manor. She had none of those skills. When she hunted, if she wasn’t direct, she missed her target.

Oh, she wanted to argue more, but Bram had spent too much time in her room. Aindreas could become impatient. ‘I’ll open the gates,’ she said, ‘if you stay quiet on the tunnel.’

His head tilted as if he sensed a trap, but he didn’t hide the smile of victory. ‘Not expected, but you have, indeed, made me a curious man. A hidden tunnel, but also hidden from the keep’s residents? A private tunnel for you only. Now, what use is such a tunnel to a woman?’

Irritated at his smile and the way it made something flutter inside her, she answered, ‘Its use is to get you out of here so I can open the gates.’

He narrowed his eyes on her. ‘This morning.’

She nodded.

‘This seems sudden. I can’t imagine keeping a tunnel secret would be so important to you. What trick do you play?’

Tricks. Play. She knew nothing of such things. Unlike this Colquhoun with his pampered existence, her life had always been hard work.

She would always remember when her father first set off to secure the wealthy Gaira of Clan Colquhoun as his wife. With laughter ringing out, her siblings clung to him. They had been joyous, as if he’d soon bring home their every childhood wish.

And her? Her father, with his head held high, gazed at her, his arms full of children, the rest of his clan waving proudly. At that moment, her father looked at her as if he loved her again. Tears stinging her eyes, she hadn’t wanted to break their gaze. She hadn’t seen her father look at her with such emotion since before her mother died so many winters before.

In that moment it felt as if she had her father again. Not the man he had become since his second marriage and since their fortunes changed for the worse. After that he became bitter and the knot of hate that began with her mother’s death grew until every word he ever uttered, every action he ever committed, was a reflection of that hate buried in his heart. His runaway bride only made it worse.

When he pursued Gaira, her father was killed. Then the English came and the Fergussons lost what little wealth and pride they had left.

Fate or God already played the cruellest of tricks on Clan Fergusson. Now this Colquhoun came to humiliate them further.

‘I make nae tricks,’ she practically choked on the word.

‘This is too easy,’ Bram said.

‘Doona you like easy?’ she said.

With no bride and only resentment, her father had boasted of the Colquhouns’ decadent home and the excess of comforts strewn about. How their tables were laden with food and the freshest rushes were underfoot. He even spoke of laughter, jests...entertainment.

And the more her father spoke, the worse that knot of bitterness grew until barbs slashed at his insides. When he left to pursue his bride, he was filled only with vengeance.

And he never looked at Lioslath again.

‘You like easy,’ she repeated. ‘It’s what every Colquhoun likes. So I’m opening the gates because that’s what you expect—everything comfortable.’

Gaira, the Colquhoun bride who was supposed to have saved them all, never arrived at Fergusson keep. Lioslath knew why: she was soft like the rest of their clan. No doubt she’d fled prettily to the safety of her luxurious home.

His frown increased. ‘Comfortable?’ he said the word as if he’d never said it before. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he was so used to food and entertainment he took it for granted. That thought made her angrier.

‘You insult me and grant me a boon,’ he said softly. Almost too softly. ‘Why are you doing this?’

She had work to do and she needed him gone. Barring him had not worked, so she would open the gates. Once he saw that there were no comforts, that there was only work here, and lots of it, he’d be gone, just like his sister. For once, she was proud of the wreck of a keep she lived in.

She shrugged as she’d seen him do. ‘Because it’s easy,’ she said.